Bruce's Cat
by Ri2
Summary: Thomas and Martha Wayne, deciding that their son needs companionship, set out to get him a pet. They bring back a girl.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything that doesn't belong to me.

…

Thomas Wayne, head of Wayne industries, world-class surgeon, universe-class husband and father (in his family's humble opinion) and one of the wealthiest men in Gotham was reading Plato in his study when he suddenly glanced up from the treatise, struck by a great epiphany. "Martha," he said gravely. "I believe we should get our son a pet."

Martha Wayne, Thomas' loving wife and one of Gotham's most powerful and terrifying socialites, paused in the abstract sculpture she was welding together, turned off her torch and lifted her mask to frown at her husband. "A pet? Whyever do you think our darling son needs a pet, Thomas? Not that I would ever deny our dearest boy an animal companion if he should ever ask, but what makes you believe he desires one?"

"It is not a matter of desire so much as a matter of _need_ , Martha," Thomas informed his wife seriously. "I believe that young Bruce could benefit from a loyal and trustworthy animal companion, to stave off the crushing weight of loneliness that a boy his age should never have to suffer."

"Lonely?" Martha cried in disbelief. "Why ever should Bruce be lonely, Thomas? We spend as much time as possible as we can with him when we're not occupied with our own busy lives, and whenever we aren't free… Well, there's always Alfred!"

Thomas nodded, sitting down his book. "While I'm sure both of us can agree that Alfred is the most ideal companion and protector a growing young boy could ever wish for, it does not do for young Bruce to have nobody to turn to but his parents and his manservant. Children his age need friends, Martha, and regrettably, he is unable to make those among children in his own age, no doubt due to his possessing more than two brain cells."

"Thomas!" Martha cried, aghast. "That's a terrible thing to say!"

"You disagree?" He prompted.

"Well, no, but still, you could've said it in a more polite manner!" Martha frowned. "What about Thomas Elliott? He and Bruce always seem to get along well."

Thomas made a face. "I don't want Bruce hanging out with that boy anymore, Martha. I suspect he will one day grow up to be a serial killer."

"Thomas!" Martha cried, aghast, again. "That's an awful thing to say about a child! Whatever could drive you to believe such a terrible thing?"

"He seemed oddly resentful towards me for saving his parents' life after that dreadful car accident," Thomas said uneasily.

Martha rolled her eyes. "'Resentful.' Honestly! I'm sure you're exaggerating. I know Tommy and his parents don't quite get along, but-"

"He specifically said, 'No, no, damn you, what have you done you fool, they were supposed to die, how could you save their lives, you ruined everything, I swear that one day you will pay for this, and your son worst of all!'" Thomas recalled.

Martha grimaced. "All right, I suppose that is rather troubling and childlike behavior. Still, not the first time someone has sworn an oath of vengeance against our family."

"And not the last, I'm sure," Thomas agreed cheerfully, glancing at a large bag labeled 'Death Threats' sitting next to the fireplace. In winter, they saved money on gas or firewood by tossing the bag's contents in by the shovelful. "With that said, I believe Bruce could use a friend he can relate to that is neither his parents, his servant, nor someone liable to stab him in the back, perhaps literally."

"Very well, you've convinced me," Martha decided after a moment's thought, putting down her torch and mask and giving her husband her full attention. "What shall we get for him, then? A dog? A goldfish? A hamster? A komodo dragon?"

"I believe the best way to find out is to ask the one person who knows our son better than us," Thomas said, reaching for a small bell sitting on a side table beside him and ringing it.

"You rang, Master Thomas?" Alfred, their ever-reliable and loyal butler spoke up, seeming to have materialized from thin air behind Thomas before the bell even finished ringing.

"Ah, Alfred, excellent timing," Thomas said, turning in his seat to smile happily at the Butler. "Martha and I were just discussing the idea of getting Bruce a pet. Would you have any insight into what sort of animal companion he might desire?"

Alfred did not give this question more than a second's thought before replying, "I do believe young Master Bruce has expressed an interest in a cat, Master Thomas."

"A cat? Truly?" Mother asked, surprised. "I thought he was developing an interest in bats."

Thomas snorted and waved dismissively. "Please, Martha, if Bruce wanted a bat, he could always visit the extensive caves and catacombs beneath the manor. Alfred, are you certain he desires a cat?"

Alfred nodded. "He's been very strongly hinting at it, yes. In fact, if I recall properly, just the other day he said, 'Alfred, if I asked my parents really nicely, do you suppose they would get me a cat? I really want a cat. A lot.'"

"Well, I suppose that decides the matter then," Thomas said with a shrug. "Martha, we're getting our son a cat!"

"Capital!" Martha cheered, delighted. "And as it so happens, I know just the place to get one! I've heard that a new pet store has opened recently specializing in the perfect pets for members of the upper crust. It's been highly recommended by some of the members of my sewing circle. If ever we were to find a feline perfect for our son, it would be there!"

"Wonderful!" Thomas said eagerly. "Alfred, bring the car around, we'll head into the city at once. And not a word to Bruce, I want this to be a surprise."

Alfred bowed. "I shall do my best, Master Thomas, though it's getting more and more difficult to keep secrets from Master Bruce by the day. The boy is developing into quite the budding young detective…"

…

Soon enough, the Wayne couple were in their limousine and on their way, departing the expansive Wayne estate and heading into the city of Gotham, widely believed by most of the country to be the crime capital of America. This was ridiculous, of course, everyone in Gotham knew that the neighboring city of Bludhaven was much worse.

Less than half an hour after leaving their home, the Waynes stepped through the front door of Albert Zook's pet store, and were greeted by the sounds and smells of dozens of animals ranging from the mundane (dogs, cats, gerbils) to the rather exotic (giant snakes, crocodiles, Tigers, and was that an ostrich?), all of them kept in tasteful but compact enclosures resembling their native habitats. Warm lighting bathed the rather sizable store in a sunny glow, and employees wearing animal costumes and smiles that didn't look completely fake were walking around the store, answering questions from customers and humoring overenthusiastic children begging them to let them hold some of the more intriguing but dangerous creatures.

"Oh my!" Martha cried, amazed. "I thought we were going to a pet store, not a zoo!"

"In the case of my establishment, the two are not mutually exclusive," the proprietor, Albert Zook, said as he bustled over. He was a short, round, kindly-looking older man with cheerful beady eyes staring through thick spectacles, wisps of hair covering his balding head, and gloves and a heavy apron covered in scratches and bits of bird poop and other bodily secretions. "Welcome, Mister and Mrs. Wayne! Thank you for calling in advance to let us know you were coming. I apologize for my appearance, but we had to rush a little to get everything ready for your arrival. We are more than honored by the presence of two of Gotham's most illustrious personages!"

"And if even half of the things we've heard about your selection are true, it will be our honor as well," Thomas said cheerfully.

"And if you are indeed able to provide us with the perfect feline companion for our son, you can be sure that we will be recommending your fine store to all of Gotham!" Martha assured Albert.

"You flatter me, Mrs. Wayne. All I ask out of life is to pair people with their perfect pets. No more, no less." Albert's face crinkled into a smile. "And on that note, if you'll follow me, I think we can see about finding something for your son, Bruce. It's a shame you couldn't bring him in person, but I believe I have the perfect specimen in mind!"

The Waynes followed the elderly proprietor towards a large area where children and adults were playing with dozens of adorable kittens and older cats… Only to walk right by it. "Shouldn't we go in there?" Martha asked in confusion as they turned a corner, leaving the cat section behind them.

Albert tutted. "Oh, no, no, no, Mrs. Wayne! All of the animals you see around you, while indeed exquisite, are far too… Dare I say, plebeian, for someone of your family's standing. What I have in mind is in the back, where we keep all the _truly_ special animals, for the most elite of Gotham's elite!"

"What, like the unicorns?" Thomas joked.

"Among other things, yes," Albert said cheerfully.

Thomas blinked. "… I was kidding."

"I wasn't," Albert said. "We have creatures from all over the world, even ones that can't be obtained by… Regular means."

Mother's eyes lit up. "Thomas, can we-"

"Martha, we're here for a pet for our son," Thomas said sternly. "We can discuss getting you a Hydra some other time." Martha pouted. Thomas frowned. "Even so, I'm… Not entirely sure how I feel about a pet store getting a VIP section."

"Most pet stores don't have our stock, or serve our clientele," Albert said, nodding to some of his employees as they passed by. "Ah, here we are," he said, stopping at an unobtrusive door set in the wall at the end of an aisle full of chew toys. He fiddled with the key ring on his belt until he found the right one, and used it to unlock the door, opening onto a descending staircase surrounded by plain walls lacking the same cheerful atmosphere as the rest of the store.

There was also a strange scent, one that didn't quite smell the same as everything they'd seen so far. Thomas frowned as he sniffed the air, finding it somehow… Familiar…

"Just a little further, down this way," Albert said as he guided them down the stairs.

 _That smell… Where do I know it from?_ Thomas wondered, continued to sniff the air as the odor grew stronger the further they went down the stairs.

"Mrs. Wayne, I must warn you in advance, some of what you'll see in our backroom may be a little… Distressing for those who are faint of heart," Albert warned Martha.

"Mister Zook, I'm married to a surgeon who occasionally has taken his work home with him and regularly have tea parties with some of the most monstrous women imaginable. Trust me when I say that while many things can be said about my heart, 'faint' is not one of them," Martha bragged.

"Even so," Albert said warily.

Thomas frowned. _Work… Yes, that's right, something about this smell reminds me of work. But why…_

"I must say, I'm quite giddy to have the two of you here," Albert confessed. "Several other members of your circle have come to browse my wares, but I'd always hoped, nay, prayed that the great Waynes would one day grace my doorstop!"

"Well, I'm glad that your prayers could be answered," Martha said, though there was a hint of unease beneath her jovial tone, the smell starting to get to her as well. She glanced at her husband, noticing how troubled he seemed.

 _Doesn't make me think of the office…something about the hospital…but what…_ Thomas pondered, deep in thought.

"All right, here we are," Albert said once they'd reached the bottom of the stairs, where another lock door awaited them. After fiddling with the key ring again, he found the right key, and began open the door. "Now, Mister and Mrs. Wayne, let's see about finding you a good and proper cat for your son, shall we?"

As the door swung open, the smell, which had been muted by the door and walls, slammed into them, and as the shocked Waynes saw what lay beyond, Thomas suddenly recognized that odor, one he dealt with frequently in the hospital.

Tears.

Sweat.

Feces and urine.

Raw, unfiltered, human _despair._

Because that was what lay in the massive room Albert Zook took them into, a chamber half as big as the pet store upstairs, which, Thomas Martha realized, was just a façade for this place's _true_ business. Cage after cage, containing _humans_ , all of them wearing animal costumes, most of them looking as if they had long since given up hope of freedom or rescue ages ago.

"Now, as you can see, we have quite the exotic selection for the discerning pet owner," Albert said proudly, completely oblivious to the mounting horror of his guests. "If you'll look over here, you can see we have owls…"

"The Court will make you pay dearly for this," a cloaked being wearing an owl mask snarled.

"Fireflies…"

"Burn… Burn it… Burn it all…" A heavily burnt man dressed like an insect shuddered.

"Crocodiles…"

"Surprisingly, this is not the worst freak show I've been a part of," a massive heavily scaled humanoid monster grunted.

"Great moths…"

"For some reason, I feel as if this is the beginning of a long, long series of humiliations for me," a man dressed like a moth muttered.

"Penguins…"

"For the last time, I am NOT A PENGUIN!" Shrieked a scrawny young man with a beak-like nose dressed like a Penguin.

"Oh, shut up, Oswald," growled an attractive African-American woman dressed as a mermaid treading water in a large water tank next to the Penguin cage.

"Exotic fish," Albert said, nodding at the woman. "As well as sharks…"

A large… _Creature_ in another water tank next to the mermaid that looked like some unholy fusion of shark and man, growled and said, "When I get out of here, I shall devour you."

"Take a number," the crocodile man grunted.

"Bats…"

"While I have to admit this is more comfortable and familiar than I thought it would be, I get a strange feeling it should be someone else dressed like this…" A man dressed like a bat dangling upside down from the top of his cage commented.

"And so many others! Flamingos, zebras, cheetahs, many different kinds of snakes including copperheads and cobras… But of course, you came here for cats!" He bustled the horrified couple over to two cages, one of which contained a man dressed like a cat constantly snarling something about a mystical cape of nine lives, while the other…

"Since you're looking for a pet for your young son, you probably want something more suited for a boy his age. We just got this kitten in a few days ago, I believe she'll do just nicely!" Albert said with disgustingly dissonant serenity as he indicated the cage, which contained a young dark-haired girl maybe a year or two older than Bruce dressed in a skintight black cat outfit with broken goggles on her forehead just beneath her fake cat ears. Cleaned up a bit, she would've looked quite pretty, if she weren't crumpled up into a ball in the corner of her cage, a look of abject hopelessness and resignation on her face.

Smiling, Albert turned to the Waynes, who had gone utterly still upon seeing the girl. "Now, I won't lie to you, our animals are a bit pricey, but for someone with your wallet I'm sure it won't be any trouble-"

"Do you have reception down here?" Thomas asked abruptly, pulling out his phone.

"Err, yes. Why do you ask?" Albert asked, taken aback.

"Oh, no reason," Thomas said as he calmly started dialing a certain three-digit number.

"Mister Wayne, who are you calling?" Asked the confused Albert. "And Mrs. Wayne, why have you removed your gloves, rolled up your sleeves, and are advancing towards me in an oddly intimidating manner-"

…

The air was filled with sirens and flashing red and blue lights as ambulances and police cars surrounded the upscale pet store that had received such rave reviews from the press over the last month or so. Pedestrians jostled for space to see was going on while reporters from at least a dozen different agencies described the absolutely shocking and disturbing human trafficking operation that had just been discovered here, which had apparently been frequented by some of the city's most powerful shakers and movers. As uniformed officers not-so-gently led the shop's employees to an armored transport while paramedics examined and treated the traumatized people that had been locked up in cages in ridiculous costumes for Lord knows how long, decorated GCPD detective James Gordon shook his head in disgust. "Harvey, I don't know what sickens me more about this, the fact that something this awful was going on under our nose the whole time, or that so many of the city's elite were in on it."

"Personally, I'm more grossed out by the fact they were all forced to dress like animals," Gordon's partner, veteran officer Harvey Bullock, commented as he took a swig from his ever-present flask. "I tell you, brother, there are a lot of twisted people out in the world."

"Still, at least this is one such operation out of business," Gordon said optimistically.

"Yeah, too bad at least half a dozen will spring up to replace it," Bullock said moodily. He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he watched Albert, beaten and bloody and looking to be half-comatose, get wheeled into an ambulance. He whistled. "Shit, you really did a number on him, Mister Wayne. Aren't you doctors supposed to be pacifists or something?"

Thomas, standing next to the two officers with Martha, shook his head. "Oh no, Mister Bullock, I assure you that was not my handiwork. As a doctor, I take the Hippocratic Oath very seriously, and have vowed never to inflict harm on another being."

Bullock blinked. "Then how-"

"My wife, on the other hand, has taken no such oath," Thomas said, nodding at Martha, who was picking at the bandages the paramedics had wrapped around her knuckles. "Martha, darling, please don't touch those."

"But they're itchy," she complained.

"That's how you know it's working properly, dearest," Thomas said unsympathetically.

Bullock's eyes widened. " _She_ did all that?!"

"I'll have you know I'm more than just a pretty face," Martha said smugly. "I won both the Woman's Championship Boxing _and_ Little Miss Judo titles back in school seven years running, and have made sure to keep in practice even after I got married. Sitting around the house all day doing nothing but looking spectacular is not how I wish to spend the rest of my life, thank you very much."

"… You know, you could probably be charged with assault, right?" Gordon asked after moment.

"It was self-defense," Martha claimed.

"Really," Gordon asked skeptically.

"Really," Martha said cheerfully.

"Well, I'm convinced," Bullock said with a shrug. Gordon frowned at him.

"If it's any consolation, I tried to stop her, officers. Truly, I did," Thomas said rather unconvincingly.

"Yes, he very specifically told me which parts not to hit if I didn't want to inflict the maximum pain possible," Martha said. "It isn't his fault I chose to do the exact opposite of everything he said."

Gordon sighed, seeing he probably wasn't going to win this, and to an extent, wasn't sure he wanted to. "Well, I guess that'll have to do for now, but if and when Albert regains consciousness, he could still charge you."

"Which is why we have lawyers, to deal with such things," Thomas said chipperly.

"Yeah, too bad all this scumbag's clients will also be able to lawyer up and probably get off without a hitch, given they're about as wealthy as you two," Bullock said gloomily.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," Martha said sweetly. "Rest assured, should the legal system fail, I have… Other methods to deal with these abominations I once thought I could consider friends."

"You gentlemen would be surprised and possibly a little horrified to learn just how many ways my dear Martha can legally destroy someone's life with nothing but her pocketbook," Thomas said in amusement.

"… Right," Gordon said uneasily.

"Is there anything else we can do for you?" Thomas asked.

"Don't think so," Bullock grunted.

Gordon nodded. "We got your statements, so I suppose you can go. But you may be called upon later to testify once this gets to trial."

"If," Bullock grunted.

"It will if we have anything to say about it," Thomas said earnestly. "Well, Martha? Shall we away?"

"Yes, let's," Martha agreed.

They departed, hand-in-hand. Gordon shook his head slowly. "I tell you, Harvey, they are not how I expected them to be."

"This is Gotham, Jimbo," Bullock said with a shrug. "Nobody's how you expect them to be." Gordon reluctantly had to admit that he was right.

"Well, that was certainly an adventure," Thomas commented as he and his wife worked their way past the police cordons and the screaming reporters towards their waiting car.

Martha nodded. "Yes, a shame we didn't find a cat for dear Bruce… Oh, what's this? It looks like some of that monster's prisoners wish to speak to us," she commented, seeing a few of the people they'd seen in cages moving to intercept them.

"Thomas and Martha Wayne. Your actions this day will not be forgotten by the Court of Owls. It will weigh favorably towards you when the time of reckoning comes," the man in the owl mask said with a brisk nod before heading on his way.

Thomas and Martha exchanged puzzled looks. "… Okay…"

"No idea what he's talking about, but this isn't something I'll forget so easily either," the African American lady who had once been a mermaid drawled. "Fish Mooney does not forget her debts. Come along, Cobblepot, it's time to go home."

"Ow!" The young man who'd been dressed like a Penguin yelped as Fish yanked on a leash tied around his neck. "Miss Mooney, do I really need to keep wearing this?"

"Yes," Fish said bluntly as she tugged him away.

"… Huh," Thomas said.

"Hey, thanks for the assist back there," the crocodile-man said. "If I ever see you in the sewers, I will try very hard not to eat you."

"As will I, if I ever catch you in my neck of the sea," the shark-man added.

"That's… Good to know?" Martha said uncertainly.

As the two… Creatures departed, Thomas said, "You know, Martha, I don't believe those two were wearing costumes."

"Really?" Martha said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "What was your first guess?" Thomas smirked in amusement, and the two of them continued towards the limousine, where Alfred was waiting.

"Welcome back, Master Thomas and Mistress Martha. I take it, then, that you were unable to procure a cat for Master Bruce?" The faithful valet asked, opening the car door for them.

"Regrettably, no," Thomas said. "But on the plus side, we managed to dismantle a human trafficking ring peddling to the highest echelons of our society, so suppose it wasn't a total loss."

"I suppose we'll have to check out another pet store," Martha said with a shrug. "While we're out and all."

"Quite. On a related note, there's somebody that wants to speak with you," Alfred said as his employers entered the car…

And were surprised to find the girl who had dressed like a cat waiting for them. Unlike most of the former prisoners of Albert Zook, she had chosen not to change out of her animalistic attire. "Um. Hey. Mister and Mrs. Wayne, right?" she said awkwardly. "Do you, uh, mind if I have a word with you real quick?"

"Why, of course, darling," Martha said, surprised.

"So long as you don't keep your parents waiting. They're probably worried sick," Thomas agreed.

The girl grimaced. "Yyyyyeah, somehow I doubt that."

There was an awkward pause. "Ah," Thomas said finally.

The girl sighed. "Right. Anyway. That's part of what I want to talk to about. Well, just a part. First off, um, thanks. For what you did back there. That was… That was incredible. I can honestly say I've never seen anyone do something that, and I _definitely_ would never have imagined it from a pair like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Martha said with a chuckle.

"I'd say we were only doing what anyone else would do, but I think we both know that's not even remotely true, is it?" Thomas asked with a tinge of sadness.

"Not even remotely," the girl said bluntly. "I hadn't been there long, but the number of people who came through just looking at us like we were… Like we were _animals_ , not people, was…" She took a deep breath. "Getting off subject. So. As I'm sure you've probably guessed by now, life hasn't exactly been easy for me. Grew up on the streets, was raised by cats-"

"Cats?" Martha interrupted, surprised.

"They treated me better than just about every human I've ever encountered, _especially_ the foster families the state has tried to set me up with," the girl said bitterly. "And really, considering that this is Gotham, is that really a big deal?"

"We _did_ just speak to a group of men who looked as if they were part crocodile, shark, or penguin, and a strange man who seemed to believe himself to be a representative of a fairy tale told to scare young Gothamites," Thomas reminded his wife.

"Actually, Oswald's completely human, he just looks like that naturally," the girl interjected.

"The poor dear…" Martha said sympathetically.

"Anyway. Life's been tough, and it's been getting a lot tougher lately. This the fifth time this month I've been snatched off the streets and forced into some sort of clandestine super-illegal shit, and this is the only time I haven't been able to escape. If… If the two of you hadn't done what you did… I overheard that freak talking on the phone to somebody who he was pretty sure would make a good buyer for me…" She bit her lip and looked away. "I… I really don't want to think about what might've happened to me if you hadn't shown up when you did."

Neither of the Waynes said anything. Neither of them was sure what to say.

After she regained her composure, the girl looked back at them. "Anyway. I owe you. Big time. Like, one or more of my nine lives big time."

"Dear, you don't owe us anything-" Martha started.

"But I do," the girl insisted. "In a major way. And so, it's because of that… And because, like I said, things have been getting worse on the streets lately, and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to take care of myself… I'm going to do something I swore I'd never do. I can't guarantee it will be forever, since I'm kind of an independent spirit that doesn't like being tied down, but… It'll at least be for a while."

"What will be?" Thomas asked cautiously, although he was already starting to get a suspicion, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

The girl fidgeted nervously, and then gave them a shy smile. "Are you, uh, are you still in the market for a cat for your son?"

…

Bruce Wayne frowned at the various zoological textbooks lying open on his desk. While the first impression would be that he was doing his homework, as most boys his age were supposed to (though probably weren't), if asked, he would inform any inquirer that he was in the middle of something far more important, something that could very well shape his future.

Not too long ago, his father had made him promise that, should he or his mother happen to die prematurely, he should do his best to move on and not allow this tragedy to shape his entire life. If, however, their deaths were from decidedly unnatural consequences, then he would take a sacred vow to dedicate his life to fighting crime while dressed up as some sort of animal in honor of his parent's memory. Bruce took this promise very seriously, as he did all his promises, which was why he was currently poring over books of different kinds of animals from all over the world. For while he had indeed agreed that he would dress up as an animal-themed vigilante should the worst case scenario ever come to pass, the big question was: WHICH animal?

"It has to be something scary, something to strike terror into the hearts of men, since criminals are a cowardly and superstitious lot," Bruce murmured to himself. "And while I suppose there have to be _some_ people with phobias of pandas or cute fluffy animals, they're probably few and far between, and besides, I doubt anyone would take me seriously if I called myself 'the Koala' or 'the Poodle.'"

Closing one of his books and setting it aside, he turned his attention back to the others. "There are certain animals that a sizable portion of mankind seems to have instinctual fear of, a primal terror possibly left over from our more primitive ancestors. Spiders are the most common of these creatures, but unfortunately, I'm not the only one who's noticed this, and the costumed vigilante/villain market is a little oversaturated with arachnid-themed individuals. I suppose I could try to branch out and be a scorpion, but the tail would be bit problematic."

He turned to another book. "Snakes are also a common fear. However, much like spiders, the market is oversaturated in them, especially on the villainous end. In addition, if I really wanted to adhere to the theme, I'd have to dabble in toxins, and a hero who relies on poison has all sorts of negative connotations. Though I suppose there may be other reptiles that could suffice…"

He glanced at a different book. "And then there are bats. While not as many people are afraid of them as spiders, they're still a fairly common fear. Even people who don't have a specific phobia of them can easily be frightened by bats under the right circumstances. In addition, I must confess I feel a certain… Affinity towards bats. One would think that after the recent incident where I fell into the old caves beneath the manor, I'd be terrified of the avian mammals, but something about them… When I hear the flaps of their wings in my dreams, I feel… Safe. Strong. Confident…"

"Master Bruce, who are you talking to?" Asked Alfred, who had just appeared in the doorway.

"My recorder," Bruce said, holding up a small audio device. "Just recording my thought process for posterity. I believe I've asked you in the past to knock before disturbing me?"

"My apologies, Master Bruce, but I've just returned with your parents. They have a very special surprise for you, one I think you'll quite enjoy-" Alfred began.

"It is a cat?" Bruce asked, perking up.

Alfred hesitated. "… However did you know that?!"

"Simple matter of deduction. You left earlier with Mother and Father on an errand without informing me what it was. While that is hardly unusual, I later heard on the news that my parents got involved in breaking up some sort of trafficking ring operating out of a high end pet store. The most likely reason my parents would ever be at a pet store would be to buy me a pet, and since I recall mentioning to you that I wondered if my parents would be amenable to buying me a cat, logically that means they must've intended to buy me a cat at that pet store, discovered the trafficking ring, broke it up, and then stopped at a different pet store to buy me a cat on the way home so as not to return empty-handed," Bruce recent.

"Most impressive, Master Bruce," Alfred congratulated the boy. "And almost completely correct, too."

Bruce blinked. " _Almost?"_

Alfred nodded. "Indeed. If you'll follow me downstairs, I believe everything shall soon be clear."

Bruce was puzzled by this. This excited him. There were few things he was unable to accurately deduce these days, so anything that could surprise him was a true novelty. "All right."

Setting his books aside for the time being, Bruce followed Alfred out of his room and down the stairs to the foyer, where his parents were waiting. "Ah, Bruce!" Thomas called to his son as he approached. "How has your afternoon been?"

"Productive. I think I've almost narrowed down the animal I intend to pattern myself off of should the unfortunate happen and you and Mother are taken from me by unjust means," Bruce said, hugging his father. "And from what I hear, you had a very productive afternoon as well?"

"Oh, indeed," Martha said, bending down to hug her son and kiss him on the forehead. "But don't worry, we brought you something very nice while we were out."

"Bruce, I'd like to introduce you to Miss Selina Kyle," Thomas said, stepping aside to reveal the young girl dressed like a cat, who seemed to have regained some of her confidence during the drive over and waved nonchalantly to Bruce. "She's to be your new cat."

"Meow," Selina said with a smirk.

Bruce stared at the (rather pretty, he observed, and in a more honest way than most of the other empty-headed girls he'd been forced to spend time with) girl for moment blankly. "But… That's not a cat. That's a person."

"Hey, it's a free country. I can self-identify as a cat if I want to," Selina said defensively. "Plus, I was raised by cats, so I think by some legal definitions that makes me one."

"I'm… Pretty sure that's not how it works," Bruce said awkwardly.

Selina shrugged. "And I'm pretty sure I don't care."

Bruce shot his parents a look. "I thought you _broke_ _up_ a trafficking ring, not… Profited off of one!"

"They didn't," Selina said sharply. "They didn't pay a cent for me. They saved me, freed me, and I decided to go with them of my own free will. Which also means that, if I don't like it here, I can leave as well. So I suggest you be a good pet owner, kid, if you want me sticking around."

"I…uh, all right," Bruce said in confusion, not sure what to make of this.

He shot his parents a somewhat desperate look, but they merely chuckled at his befuddlement. "Sorry, Bruce, but you won't be getting any help with her from us," Thomas informed his son.

Martha nodded. "Yes, she's your pet, which makes her your responsibility, not ours."

"Which also means that you'll be cleaning up after her, not me, Master Bruce," Alfred added.

"Uh, okay," Bruce said, struggling to process all this.

"Cool. So long as you don't boss me around and remember to keep me fed and cozy, I think we're going to get along great," Selina said, ruffling Bruce's hair. "So, why don't you show me where the kitchen is so I can get something to eat before taking a tour of my new scratching grounds? And don't worry, I promise not to claw up any of the furniture or drapes. When my family comes visiting, though, I can't make any promises on their part. Speaking of which, you might want to find a place for them to stay if they decide to move in, shouldn't be hard, considering how big this place is…"

Bewildered but finding himself oddly pleased by these current circumstances, Bruce did as she bade and let her deeper into the manor. "I must say, Mistress Martha, this is certainly a rather unusual way of finding Master Bruce a ladyfriend," Alfred commented.

Martha chuckled. "Oh please, this is _nothing_ compared to how Thomas and I hooked up!"

"That was certainly a memorable St. Patrick's Day," Thomas recalled. "So, think the two of them will hit it off?"

Martha grinned somewhat unsettlingly. "Oh yes, Thomas. Something tells me that the two of them will do just fine."

Suddenly, they heard a rather loud crash. "Oops," Selina's voice said.

"Selina! That was a five-hundred-year-old vase!" Bruce cried.

"What? Seriousl? Pfft, please, it's totally fake," the girl replied.

"Wait, seriously? How do you know that?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"Here, let me show you, if you just look at this piece here…"

The Waynes and Alfred all smiled as the children's conversation changed. "Yep. Just fine," Martha said proudly.

"Martha, it's too early to plan the wedding," Thomas warned her.

" _IT'S NEVER TOO EARLY!"_

Alfred smiled. He got the feeling that the future of the Wayne family had just taken a rather sharp change… one, he felt, would be for the better…

"And that's the best way to squeeze information out of a guy."

"Really? That could prove very useful for…future endeavors."

"Uh-huh. Now, after I get something to eat, I can go about teaching you how to pick a lock…"

Alfred frowned. Well, so long as Miss Kyle didn't tempt Master Bruce into a life of crime, that is. As he bustled after the two youngsters while his employers bickered over future wedding arrangements or the lack thereof, he reflected at that, at the very least, things certainly won't going to be _boring._


End file.
